Han guided Hanna lower with a firmer grip at the back of her head. She sank around him, lips sealing, breath warm and quick against his skin. Her fingers dug into his thighs as she set a pace, the pull and press of her mouth drawing a harsh sound from his chest. He tipped his head back and drove his hips, the lines of his abdomen tightening as she took him deeper.

"Yeah. That's a good deep throat," he growled.

Heat surged, fast and hard. His body went rigid, and he finished. She held him and swallowed, eyes fluttering until the pulse of him eased. The room narrowed to quiet breaths and the slick sound of her mouth easing off. Her cheeks were flushed, tears bright at the corners of her eyes.

Han slid his hand through her hair and lifted. She let him slip free, a faint sheen on her lips catching the light. He took her in, flushed, damp-lashed, pupils wide, and watched the soft tremor run through her throat.

"That's more like it," he said with a crooked smirk. "That's the messy face no one in this Maid Restaurant will ever see."

It thrilled him to see the proper, poised maid undone like this. Han knew plenty had imagined it, and he also knew she wanted it from him. His dragon tail slid up from behind and coiled around Hanna's neck, a firm, possessive loop that lifted her chin and parted her lips.

Her ragged breath told Han she craved that collar-like hold.

"Strip," Han ordered.

Still on her knees, his tail a steady pressure at her throat, Hanna reached for her maid dress's straps. One by one she unhooked them, the fabric whispering as it loosened. Heat bloomed across her chest as his gaze tracked every inch of bared skin. With a deft, sleight-of-hand motion, she unclasped her bra and let it fall across her master's thighs.

Han tilted his head.

"Apologies, Master," Hanna said.

She bent, took the bra between her teeth, and flicked it aside. When she looked up, she smiled, obedient and eager, and kept going despite the awkward angle of her kneel, back straight, chin lifted to the pressure of his tail, every movement deliberate and devoted.

Hanna wriggled out of her maid dress's skirt and looked up at her master's face. He uncoiled his tail and, with a short lift of his chin, told her to stand.

She rose slowly, slender and long-limbed, shoulders narrow and waist tight, her tits full and heavy, her ass thick and round over the elegant flare of her hips.

Standing fully naked, she held herself still under his gaze while Han took his time, eyes tracing the sway of her chest and the deep curve of her backside.

Han smirked. "Twerk for me."

"'Twerk'?" Hanna tilted her head. "I'm sorry, Master. I don't know what it means."

He was momentarily thrown out of his Dragon's Pride-driven demeanor. It had to be an Earth term. What he wanted was simple: for her to shake that thick ass for him, naked and obedient.

He curved his lips into a smirk and twirled his index finger. "Turn around. Spread your legs. Shake your ass for me. Pump more blood into my cock."

As he spoke, his gaze traced the slim line of her waist, the full weight of her tits, and the deep curve of her backside, already picturing the ripple when she moved and the bounce that would keep his blood hot.

"Understood."

Hanna turned around, presenting the ripe swell of her ass, and got to work. She planted her feet shoulder-width apart, arched her back, and gathered her hair in one hand to bare her neck. Looking over her shoulder to meet his eyes, she rolled her hips, slow figure eights that quickened into hard shakes. Her cheeks jiggled and bounced, a soft clap with each snap.

Reading his breath and the heat in his gaze, she tried harder with every reaction: deeper arch, wider sway, a sharper snap. Watching him, she saw his cock rear higher, thicker with every ripple, and she pushed for more, holding her hair tight, eyes on her master, ass moving just for him.

Han sneered. "Come here and sit on me. Make those waves on me."

Hanna whimpered. At last. She edged back until her thighs met his, the heat of him sliding along the wet seam of her pussy. He gave a small nod, and she wrapped her hand around his shaft to guide him, the blunt head gliding through her slick and catching at her entrance.

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and sank, slow, steady, taking him inch by inch until her cheeks met his thighs with a soft smack. She arched, throat bared, breath catching as her master stretched her full to the hilt.

Her hair brushed his face.

He gathered it into ponytail reins and pulled, keeping her chin high.

"Ride," he ordered.

Hanna lifted herself and settled back in a slow, rolling seat, setting a reverse-cowgirl rhythm. She arched and rocked, hips tilting to find the angle that drew a sharper breath from him. One hand braced on his thigh, the other holding her ponytail high as she looked over her shoulder for her master's approval. Heat flushed her skin, and a tremor rippled through her as she rose and dropped, the soft clap of her curves marking each descent.

Han kept his Dragon's Pride like iron, jaw tight, but a rough sound still slipped free when she circled and drove down harder. Reading him, she worked for more: long glides, tight little pulses, then a firmer grind, obedient, relentless, determined to please.

Han lurched forward, putting a stop to her rhythm. His hands seized her breasts, fingers sinking into the soft, firm weight as he kneaded and lifted, thumbs tracing slow, possessive arcs. He pressed his mouth to the line of her spine and kissed upward, inhaling her warm, skin-deep scent as she shivered under his grip.

His cock swelled, pulsing hard against her heat.

He rose, keeping himself buried as he drew her up with him. Then he bent her over, palms spreading her plump ass, and took her from behind, driving into her in hard, relentless strokes. She clenched around him, so tight he slipped free more than once.

Han grabbed his shaft and pushed back into her slick heat, thrusting fast and deep until his own release coiled tight, ready to break.

He crushed his hips to hers and pressed all the way in, bottoming out against her cervix. Hanna's eyes rolled back until only white showed, her mouth falling open in a wide O as a shudder ran through her.

Han came, spilling deep inside her.

Heat flooded through her as he filled her. This feels the best, Hanna screamed inwardly, the thought ringing bright and wild. Her strength gave out, she melted down onto her master, cheek to his chest, panting in short, trembling breaths as aftershocks fluttered through her.

Han set aside his Dragon's Pride and kissed her cheek, his thumb brushing along her jaw. "You're incredible, my sexy head maid. I'll see to you even more, maybe fuck you so much I finally get my fill."

He dropped into the chair and let Hanna lie across him, her weight warm and boneless. Sweat cooled on their skin. His heartbeat thudded steady under her cheek. She smiled, eyes drifting closed, breath soft against his throat.

"You will never get enough of me, Master."

"I've decided to take everyone once Blood Mistress gives us a mission," Han said.

Though he didn't address her words, Hanna smiled. It meant she'd been so good he wanted to keep her close.

Ten minutes later, Hanna let her master go and rose from his lap. She smoothed her hair, then reached for her scattered clothes. With patient, practiced care, she drew her stockings up her legs, straightened the seams, and clipped the garters.

She stepped into her skirt and pulled it over the flare of her hips, the fabric skimming back over warmed skin. Buttons followed (one, two, three), her fingers neat and sure as she fastened her blouse and settled the bodice into place. She tied the apron sash in a crisp bow and adjusted her collar until it sat perfectly at her throat.

Han watched every movement, heat kindling low and steady as the polished maid reassembled herself. The soft rustle of cloth, the slide of linen over skin, the brief lift of her chest with each breath. Each small detail stoked him. His Dragon's Pride steadied his face, but the muscle in his jaw jumped, and his hands flexed against the chair arms as her silhouette returned, prim and lethal in its own way. Already hard again, he admitted to himself, the thought dry and hungry.

Hanna gave her skirt a final sweep and glanced back, eyes catching on the unmistakable sign of his renewed need. A private smile curved her lips. "Shall I prepare tea, Master," she asked softly, "or do you prefer… a second service?"

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